


minecraft but there’s a guy right there who looks like me if I had bad fashion sense

by SatanicDoormat



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Comedy, Dream is dead inside, Fluff, Other, and the Dream cinematic universe, basically a crack fic but not really, george’s opposite is fucking terrifying, inverse mcyt, just the skeppy cinematic universe, lots of chars - Freeform, remember goodboyhalo, this is funny, yeah that but on a bigger scale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanicDoormat/pseuds/SatanicDoormat
Summary: remember goodboyhalo? that, but on a much larger scale. mcyts meet inverse mcyts. it is terrifying and very, very funny.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Clay | Dream & Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream & Minx | JustAMinx (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Minx | JustAMinx/Niki | Nihachu, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 120
Kudos: 847





	1. maybe we don’t do that

**Author's Note:**

> writing a sort of crack fic to get my sanity back, dreamnap smut fic in the works

“What the  _fuck_. ” 

Dream’s jaw hangs slack, disbelieving, as he stares at the several people arranged in a row facing him and his friends, namely the guy directly across from him with his  _ own fucking face. _

“Woah, woah, wait. Who the hell are you people? Why are we-You look like me. You  sound  like me.” the man facing him spoke, blond eyebrows arching quizzically . And of course they had the same voice, too. 

He wore a pitch-black mask with a white frowny face clumsily scrawled on, turned to the side of his face, hoodie a dark red, with the exact pair of combat boots Dream always made for himself out of leather with a special crafting recipe. 

That wasn’t possible. Dream shook his head, blinking rapidly. His were the only pair of boots like that in the world. 

And yet, as he scrutinized the messy blonde hair that could never perfectly lay down flat, the spray of freckles that he saw whenever he looked into a mirror, even the knees slightly bent in that combat-ready stance he automatically went into whenever he was caught off guard, hand on the hilt of his weapon- _ and of course this guy also used an axe _ -

This stranger was him. But somehow different, like if someone had copied Dream’s essence and appearance, pasted it over, but changed some of his attributes by accident by typing in a few extra letters and commands here and there before pressing enter.

“ You’re me, but not?” 

Record scratch, freeze frame. Let me bring you up to speed.

Mainly, how Dream was standing in front of a copy of “himself if he had an emo phase and listened to My Chemical Romance“.

So, Dream wasn’t the type to believe in “alternate-universe” type bullshit. That wasn’t his thing, he was a natural skeptic.

Consequently, when George, Bad and Fundy, their resident coding experts,called an urgent meeting in the conference room of the main base he and all the other players on the server shared, and basically yelled “We live in the fucking Matrix!” in his face, he didn’t buy it.

Why would he? Dream was a self-proclaimed Minecraft expert. Not like Techno,who could do player-versus-player combat blindfolded with both hands tied behind his back and a dead bush, but still didn’t know what a motherfucking Ocean Monument was and learned about every update months after it happened.  
  


No, Dream considered himself as someone who knew more than he reasonably should about the game. Did you know that if you get a Skeleton to kill a Creeper, it drops a music disc?

So he knew this:

Minecraft had bounds. It had limits. There was only so far you could bend the world with code, and there was only so far you  wanted  to go. After Fundy made a Garfield boss and embedded Quackity in a block of dirt, not to mention George’s infamous “Shulkers but Tentacles” plug-in (which he had neglected to mention to Dream he had running until Dream went to an End City for another pair of Elytra) there had been an unspoken agreement: 

“Maybe we don’t do that.”

But there he was, exchanging eye-rolls with Sapnap and Wilbur as Bad, Fundy and George rambled on and on about “an inconsistency in the fabric of Minecraft” and “a tangible rip between worlds” and general nerd stuff that flew over everyone’s head.

“So, uh, what does this mean?” Tubbo raised his hand after George and Fundy started bickering about “perfect doppelgängers or opposites”, whatever that was.

“Tubbo! I’m so glad you asked.” Fundy yelled, pushing George away with a palm to his face. His orange ears flicked, as they did when Fundy was either excited or under the influence. 

Despite himself, Dream listened.

“Would everybody fucking shut up?” Fundy exclaimed, waiting for a hush to fall over the room. “So we are players, right? In Minecraft. And it was believed before that this is just a singular world.”

Nods from everyone, except for Phil, who was asleep again, his dark green bucket hat tipped low over his face.

“But we just learned that there are more worlds. At least one besides ours, that we brushed against completely by accident. More identical worlds, that are parallel to ours and follow the same general sequence of events that lead to actions. But, the worlds aren’t completely identical. Like, the Creeper glitch when Minecraft was created. It’s not a perfect game. So, although the worlds are mostly identical, there are differences. Although this was mostly with mob textures and the code of the game itself, evidence suggests that this time the inconsistencies are in the  players. ”

Fundy’s eyes gleamed, waiting for them to scream in excitement or surprise or something. 

He was sorely disappointed. Someone yawned.

“In English, big man. The Queen’s English, preferably.” Tommy deadpanned, grinning like he’d just said something incredibly clever. Wilbur rolled his eyes. Tubbo snickered.

Fundy’s left eye twitched and he gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. “Tommy, I’m going to wring your-“

George stepped forward, cutting him off. “You have opposite doubles. We think.” he said. “Uh, like, basically there are identical copies of us, but they will look the opposite, and act the opposite.”

Sapnap raised his hand. “Mr. George?” he parroted in a high-pitched, absolutely horrible British accent. “I have a question.” 

Schlatt and Minx laughed raucously, followed by a few chuckles from Dream, Techno, and Skeppy.

“What, Sapnap.” George sighed, pinching his forehead between two fingers.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Sapnap continued, still in his horrible accent, although it sounded more Australian that time, earning more laughs and a death glare from every British person in the room.

“Language!” Bad frowned. “Basically, we found out that there are other people in a sort of alternate dimension. They look mostly like us, but apparently they’re like, inverted versions of us? That’s all we know. That, and they follow the same sequence of events. So by finding this out, they must have also found out.”

A few hesitant, tentative nods. Dream was starting to get it now.

“With a lot of work-George pulled an all-nighter- to follow the time that they would’ve put in, we made a portal to the other dimension, that, by they should walk through in about-“ he checked his watch-“five minutes. Either that, or we disrupted the fabric of Minecraft by not following the same actions to the letter and we’ll all experience perma-death.” Bad explained cheerfully, smiling. “Do you get it now?” 

It was impossible to tell when Bad was joking.

No one said a word. Spifey crunched a potato chip loudly.

“Great! On that note, the portal’s right there.” Bad pointed to the ceiling. Everyone looked up, craning their necks.

At first Dream didn’t see anything. Then he spotted a slight disruption in the air, like heat fuzz, but...weirder, and it looked to be getting bigger?

“T-minus four minutes!”

“Bad, could you not have like, warned us?” Techno asked carefully, eyeing the ceiling. “Dude, this is-if this works it’ll be-can you imagine  two  TommyInnits?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy demanded.

MegaPVP flashed some ASL from the back of the room, flipping the bird at Skeppy discreetly.

_ ‘ _ _I hope you all die.’_ Dream automatically translated. 

“Yeah, probably.” 


	2. greg begins his reign of terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what’s poppin   
> another cliffhanger because I’m cruel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been 1000 years

“Three minutes!” Bad announced cheerfully over a rising din of voices and nervous looks at the haze near the ceiling, which was getting larger and more opaque by the second. Everyone scooted away from it nervously.

Dream was like, eighty-three percent sure they wouldn’t die. 

Maybe that was concerning, but hey. George and Fundy pulled shit like this practically every other week, and it just wasn’t alarming anymore. Nothing had been worse than the Wither Storm incident. He still had nightmares about that.

For a second he considered the implications of an alternate-universe Dream. Two of him? That’d be...really fucking weird, but maybe kind of cool?

That is, if it actually happened. Whenever Fundy and George were involved in a coding project together, it always got so inherently fucked up that it ended up not working at all. 

No, that had nothing to do with the agreement Dream had with Wilbur to sabotage any coding project of Fundy’s, George’s, or both, if it involved any of several specific elements. None of the really messed-up ones ever ended up working, and Dream consequently didn’t know if they worked. He fucking hoped not. 

They called it H.E.L.P. A pretty accurate acronym, to be honest. Anything that fell under the H, E, L, or P was to be destroyed immediately. They had about fifty percent less... incidents after that.

The H was Hentai, and anything that fit into those realms, along with suggestive mob plugins. Yes, that included every aspect of... everything , including sexual anime. Despite being a coder, the fox-boy in particular had a special penchant for cranking out extraordinarily cursed textures in astoundingly little time.

Fundy was high once, claimed to have “blacked out,” and woke up to everyone banging on his door (which looked exactly like a body pillow) demanding to know why every single block in the game had a scene from Boku no Pico slapped on it, which inevitably lead to **_This Fourth Wall Break coming Straight From The Author who does NOT watch Boku no Pico, endorse Boku no Pico, nor is in any way affiliated with Boku no Pico. Please do not watch Boku no Pico._ **

There had been more tentacle incidents than anyone cared to admit, not to mention the whole monsterfucker thing Fundy had going on, but to be fair, he had probably inherited that from Wilbur, and if Dream ever unpacked that, he’d genuinely have a fucking stroke. 

E stood for End. As in The End, the realm for the end of the game. That one had been on a strict “don’t touch it with either your dick or a ten-foot pole” after the Milf Ender Dragon incident. And the Tentacle Shulker incident. And the Sex Fruit incident. 

And the whole thing with “Cthulthu’s giant mommy milkers, but if they were BLOCKS in MINECRAFT”, which technically didn’t only apply to the End, but since they couldn’t safely remove Fundy’s cerebellum, they just restricted anything to do with tits as a whole. 

The funny thing was, Fundy was mostly the problem, but if you turned your back on George, thirty seconds later everyone he’d recently argued with was missing a limb and most of their genital area. It’s always the twinks who hold the worst grudges.   
  


L was for Lingerie, and any sort of clothing plugin. It _began_ with lingerie, which was really fucking cursed, but it actually devolved into more of a technical thing, surprisingly. 

That was because Minecraft really only allowed for the clothes on your character and the different types of armor, and any attempt to put on anything besides that (that wasn’t just a texture change for the armor. like an actual change in the source material of the game, since they only could select their skins right before they spawned in and then never again.) would work for about half a minute before you clipped through the fucking grass and fell out of the world, smashing into the bottom of an unrendered void with smoke streaming out of your ears at a thousand miles per hour, thanks to some sort of sadistic Minecraft mechanic. 

Sometimes Dream really wanted to strangle whoever created Minecraft with his bare hands. The only reason why they needed to destroy the clothing stuff was because George had developed a nasty habit of using the plugin to make stuff that _looked_ like your normal, everyday clothing/skin/armor, but would just drag you into the void. And suffocating on your own blood was a nasty way to go. 

And, finally...Piss. Just, piss. Minecraft players could go to the bathroom, yeah, but mobs decidedly could not, and Dream did not want to see that change again. Don’t ask. Do not ask. Phil had dubbed the nightmares that had plagued players involved in the incident for months afterward  “Post-Traumatic Piss Disorder” which of course everyone thought was an absolute riot, except for the people who actually suffered from it.

Every time Dream woke up and the world around him looked like the inside of a kaleidoscope had thrown up all over the textures, he got to play a fun game: Strangle the Furry Man or the British Guy?

If it was sexual, chances were it was Fundy, but you’d be surprised. George was full of surprises. Every time Dream thought he had it figured out, he looked down and his lower half would be a cave spider or he’d just suddenly grow boobs.

“Two minutes!”

Dream was jolted out of his thoughts by Bad’s excited yell, instinctively turning to look at the ceiling.

The haze had morphed into a completely opaque roughly eight-by-eight foot two-dimensional box of white, like someone had just taken a pair of scissors and cut out a square in the fabric of reality. It was very disconcerting, and it was getting brighter and harder to look at by the second.

“So...they’re just going to fall out of that box? Like, the people from the other dimension.” Some guy in a purple hoodie raised his voice above the excited chatter. He looked to be about sixteen. Dream knew he looked familiar, but couldn’t quite place his name. He assumed the kid was one of the players that frequented the huge minigame arena they’d all collaborated to build a few years ago, dubbed Hypixel. Actually, Dream didn’t even know many of the players, which was odd, considering the same people had been there since he’d spawned in. 

“And they’re going to look just like us?”

Fundy nodded. “Yep! Maybe! Probably not! See, it’s kind of like a mirror. Purpled, you know how when you look in a mirror your reflection is backwards?”

The teenage boy-Purpled was his name, apparently- nodded hesitantly. “So...they’re just gonna be us, with opposite features?”

“You could not have been further off, you adorable fucking idiot, you! Actually, it’s their personalities, and maybe some materialistic aspects of their appearances, like clothing, as a result of the changed personalities, that were inverted. We think. Because a reflection isn’t a perfect copy.” Fundy rattled off cheerfully, staring straight into the box, which was now about as bright as the sun and could not have been good for his eyes. Those eyes had seen a lot.

“Uh...okay.” Purpled nodded, looking like he actually had  more  questions. 

“Wait, how do we know who’s the reflection and who’s the original?” Tubbo piped up, eyes round with the revelation. “Are you saying we might’ve been fake copies our entire lives?”

gamerboy80-who everyone else had just dubbed Eighty- grimaced. “Thanks for the free existential crisis.” 

“You’re welcome!”

“This is cool!” Skeppy grinned, pulling back a rubber band and hitting Bad smack in the forehead with it. “Two of me! Epic!” 

“Yes, Skeppy. Two of you.” Bad repeated, taking off his glasses and examining them for damage with a long, long sigh, suddenly sounding way less excited than he had a minute ago. “Lovely. One minute, guys. Wait, it might have already been a minute. My calculations are probably just a bit off. We can wait a little longer.”

“I think Mega just told you to die.” George, the brown-haired British one, **shut the fuck up all georges look the same** , cut in, looking over at Skeppy. “Yep. Now he’s telling me to die. What does that-no, that’s just the middle finger. Now he’s telling all of us to die. Now he’s getting up and coming over her- oh, fuck.”

“Tell him it’d be my pleasure to die, if he does it for me.” Boffy mumbled under his breath. 

“I’ll tell Bad to sing at your funeral!” Harvey called after Geo, who was beelining to the other side of the room, specifically over to Techno.

“Over my dead body!” 

It was always hard to tell Mega’s expression underneath the handkerchief that covered his mouth, but judging from his eyes, he was frowning as he moved towards Spifey. 

“Techno, help me, please-“ Geo begged, crouching behind Techno as best he could, although his long legs stuck out at an awkward angle.

“Nah. I don’t mess around with Mega. Blood for the blood god, but compensation is only received during three-to-five hour periods on weekdays, not including Wednesday, so you’re on you’re own. It’s in my contract.” Techno responded gravely.

“....What?” 

Before Techno could work some more of his “English major wizardry”, as he’d dubbed it, or “words that the government only teaches you if you graduated high school”, as everyone else called it, something fell out of the white box hovering near the ceiling and clunked at Bad’s feet.

“What the hell is that?” George quirked an eyebrow, reaching forward to snatch the mysterious object before dropping it just as quickly, mouth parting in astonishment.

The object hit the ground with a loud clatter, and most of the conversation in the room ceased as the majority of players were startled by the noise.

“What? What is it?” Bad asked earnestly. Dream peered closer, curiosity piqued.

“Those are...my goggles.” George reached up quizzically, tugging at the white clout goggles perched in his brown hair and holding them loose in his palm, studying them and then looking back at the mysterious object. “But they’re...red?”

“Red?” Fundy pushed his way into the small circle of players that had formed, trying to get a good look at the odd goggles that had fallen from the literal fucking sky. He snatched them, shooting a look at George.

Dream knew that look. It was the “I-was-right-and-you-were-wrong” look that Fundy wore smugly nearly half the time, the look that made people want to stab him in the crotch. 

But there was a different hint to it. Dream wasn’t great at reading people, but he could see that on the edge of the normally smug look was a desperate “oh-god-oh-fuck-what-have-we-done”, an expression he had only seen once before on Fundy’s face, because normally Fundy didn’t regret shit. 

But as his furry friend (oh, god, Dream was never going to refer to Fundy as “furry friend”, even in his head, ever again) studied those goggles in his palm, holding them gingerly like they would grow teeth and bite his head off any second, Dream had to admit, it looked like Fundy was actually experiencing remorse. 

That  was terrifying. 

George paled, glancing at Fundy. “You think this means-“

“Personalities. Personalities, yeah. And appearances. You-oh my fucking god, take all of your positive attributes and multiply them by negative one thousand, then do the same thing to your negative attributes.” Fundy exclaimed urgently, ears pointing straight up.

“Positive-yeah, well, at least our negative aspects will be reversed?” George sputtered, throwing a wild glance at the white box on the ceiling, which looked to be getting brighter and brighter.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on? Maybe explain for some of us who have lives?” Schlatt called, but he was wholly ignored. 

“I think it’s arguable that most of us have more positive aspects than bad ones! Think of what this  means , George!” Fundy grabbed George to shake him, dropping the glasses in the process. 

Dream snatched them before they could hit the ground, holding them securely in his hand and shoving them into his pocket before turning his attention back to George and Fundy. A part of him was starting to understand.

“Calm down, calm down! Maybe this isn’t that bad!” George retorted, pushing Fundy away. 

“You two are literally the least calm people in the room.” Tubbo piped up, and was also ignored yet again.

“It  is too  that bad-oh, my god, this is bad.” Fundy’s face drained of color, which gave his orange hair a stark, almost amusing contrast to his skin.

“What?” George asked, eyebrows raising, “What’s bad?”

“ _Bad_. ” Fundy replied simply. “Bad.”

“Bad?” George’s confused frown only deepened. “What?”

“Did someone say my name?” Bad, as in BadBoyHalo, smiled brightly, adjusting his glasses and poking his head between George and Fundy. At some point, he’d left, and no one had noticed because they were busy watching the George-Fundy show.

“Guess what! While you muffins were yelling, I ran my calculations through the command blocks again, and I was a few minutes off! They should actually come through in...roughly twenty seconds.” 

Now it was George’s turn to whiten, horrified understanding flashing across his face.

Fundy flashed him a quick message in ASL, so fast that Dream barely caught it:

_Positive attributes multiplied by negative one thousand._

George’s head snapped towards Bad’s smiling face, then, for some reason, to Nihachu’s sweet, cherubic expression, (she had been chatting with Minx, near Wilbur), and finally to Tubbo’s innocent features. 

When you know someone as well as Dream knew George, you got to the point where you could almost read their mind just by looking at their features.

And Dream saw true fear flash across George’s face in that moment. Although he had  no fucking clue what was happening, he couldn’t deny that seeing his friend so scared of the unknown, something that he eagerly set foot into and exploited on the daily, sent alarms blaring through his brain.

“Close the portal!” George yelled, making a mad dash for a line of command blocks Dream hadn’t noticed before, as they were nestled inconspicuously in the wall. Fundy was hot on his heels.

“Five seconds left!” Bad yelled ecstatically, with no regard for his fellow coders’ distress. 

Dream leaned forward to peer at the white box, and he could’ve sworn he saw..shadows inside of it, giving the two-dimensional portal an illusion of definition, playing tricks with his head.

He caught a flash of movement, leaning out of the range of the white box just in time for a  person  to fall out of it with a loud thump, landing in a crouched position. Silence fell over the room.

The new player stood up after a moment, grumbling various curses in a strangely familiar accent and ruffling his-Dream could see now that he was a guy-fluffy, messed-up brown hair, and straightening the white collar of an expensive-looking yellow sweater that had something printed on the front. Dream couldn’t make out what it was, as the stranger was turned away from him.

The room was dead silent as the new person finally finished patting themselves down, all the while cussing like a sailor, dropping quite a few  _ motherfucker _ ’s and  _ son of a bitch _ ’s. Bad winced, but he didn’t utter a word.

The stranger tilted his head up to face the box and yelled, “All clear!” as loudly as he could, cupping his hands around his chin as he did so to magnify the sound as well as possible so Dream still couldn’t see his features. He then stepped backwards out of range of the box, moving uncomfortably close to Dream as he did so, who instinctively stepped back.

That was definitely a familiar accent. Dream heard that voice every single day, he was sure of it, but he just couldn’t place it. Wilbur? He sounded kind of like Wilbur, but no, that wasn’t quite right.

Finally, the new guy tilted his head down, turning in a slow circle to survey the players as if  they  were the newcomers. He heard quite a few surprised gasps, but the loudest exclamations of surprise came from George and Fundy, who had both stopped trying to close the portal after the new player fell through. Even Techno, the normally impassive one, quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

Finally, the new guy turned a full hundred and eighty degrees, stopping to stare directly at Dream, rooting him in place with a cruel, shrewd expression-one that looked so unfamiliar on the familiar features that Dream now recognized-that he wanted to run away and hide somewhere.   


This wasn’t right.

All of this was wrong.

In a single second, the power dynamic on the server was flipped upside down onto Dream’s head.

Brown eyes glaring in a way that hid absolutely none of the cruel amusement they held, eyebrows set in a mocking expression, the corner of his lips twitching in such a way that it was obvious this stranger-who-wasn’t-a-stranger was trying to hide a smirk.

“So.” the other George drawled, breaking his little staring contest with Dream to spin in a circle once again, scrutinizing every face in the room.

“Which one of you dazed-looking, sorry little fuckers has my glasses?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George really said “get fucked”  
> Also don’t ask about the H.E.L.P. part I was high on something probably  
> Cliffhanger because I love you guys  
> I’m so good at building suspense *cries into chocolate-covered-almonds* please forgive me

**Author's Note:**

> pain  
> multi chapter babey have a sweetener  
> follow me on twitter @SatanicDoormat


End file.
